


The Drive

by jonesyslug



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Breakup, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 03:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18086792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonesyslug/pseuds/jonesyslug
Summary: Rick steals Vyvyan's car after Vyvyan's breaks up with him.





	The Drive

He flicks the ash off the tip of his cigarette out the window and puts the stub back in his mouth. It’s almost down to the filter now, but he likes having it there, in the corner of his mouth, and he doesn’t have any more cigarettes. He hasn’t had any for miles. When the cassette stops again and spits itself out, he angrily takes it out, flipping it over and jamming it back in. It’s a stupid tape, and he hates it, but it’s all he has and he can’t stand the silence. Some of the songs aren’t so bad, but the first bit is the hardest. 

“Hello, Vyvyan.” His voice says from somewhere in the past.

“Made you this tape so you’d have something to listen to on the way to work. Have a great day! Now, make sure you listen to that bit every day, in case I forget to tell you or something. Because I’ll probably be asleep. Your shifts are ridiculous. Anyway,” Rick winces, preparing himself for the impact of the next few words. “I love you, here’s the music. I’ll stop going on and on… I know you hate it when I do that.” 

He bites into the filter, rolling it between his clamped teeth. Holding the bitterness that’s rising up in him firmly behind his lips. The song fades in, snapping and chimes and that tune that Rick used to hum for endless hours. It burns into his ears now. It’s like acid, flowing towards his brain and his shoulders tense at it. He’s had this tape on repeat for hours and it’s not getting easier. It’s getting much, much worse. He’s going to have to stop somewhere and sell his watch, and he should be using the money strictly for food and petrol, but he’ll be damned if he’s stuck with this tape too much longer. 

“Baby, where did our love go?”

And he’s so angry at himself and at the situation. It’s all so bitterly ironic and he never would have had the time to notice before. He never noticed stupid shit like that before, and now it was everywhere. A few stray tears find their way from his eye, hanging on the end of his nose. He clenches his jaw, in effort to keep focused on the road. He’d swerve into oncoming traffic if he started crying during a Soft Cell song, of all things. He’s not even sad about it in that girlie, romantic way that he always admired in films. He misses him, but that’s not really it. He’s angry and he’s bitter and he’s just…hurt. It just hurts. He fixes his eyes onto the road, and it passes through his mind that he’s definitely never driven this far before. He’s never really driven much at all, frankly. He has no idea where he is, and he’s still not seeing and buildings. There’s got to be a service station, eventually. The song ends and the tension falls out his shoulders a bit, until the nest one starts up. Fuck this. He always forgets this one is on there. Bloody Thompson Twins. It hits him before he even feels it coming on and strangled noises are making their way through his clenched teeth. His vision is severely blurry and he blinks it away quickly, but it just keeps coming. He slams the heel of his palm into the steering wheel. 

“Fuck!” 

His own voice startles him, and it occurs to him that he hasn’t spoken out loud in a few hours. He bitterly thinks that it must be some sort of record, and his anger keeps rising. But it’s broken anger. It’s rage with no teeth. It’s all collapsing back in onto him because it has nowhere to go anymore. He stares angrily at the broken buttons on the console. If Vyvyan had taken better care of his fucking car, Rick would be able to fast forward through all this shit. He flips the v frantically at the tape deck a few times before hitting it. One of the few remaining buttons – the eject button- falls off. Rick stares down in shock for a moment. Horns blare at him and his head snaps up. He jerks the wheel quickly to dart out of the lane he was drifting into, then glares back at the button on the floor.

“Fuck you too, bastard.” He hisses at it. 


End file.
